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In 1998 I was in love with Ministry. They were the only band I had ever cared about, a love unrivaled by any band since. I’d wear this  shirt with a guy waving an american flag with bloody meat dripping down his head, the cover to their sixth album, Filth Pig. I’d walk around my High School campus with that shirt, a pair of  jnkos, and my discman, blasting hard metal scrapping against synth. Nine Inch Nails was for sellouts, Marilyn Manson was just a kid playing dress up, Deftones were cool, but if you mentioned Korn you were dead to me. I still listen to The Land of Rape and Honey, MInistry’s first departure from the goth synth scene, and think about the old days.
Since high school I mention Ministry with a sense of embarrassment. Their last few albums have been awful and age has not been nice to their rocking. But I found out that they’ve called it quits today, I can’t lie,  I got  emotional. And embarrassed or not, I’d still recommend watching some classic ministry videos.

stigmata
same old madness
land of rape and honey (live)
NWO
Revenge

When I didn’t recieve my absentee ballot in New York this November I wasn’t too concerned. I was sure that everything that I wanted was a sure thing. I woke up to an Obama America with a text message on my phone that read “Shame on you America! Lets protest…”. Prop 8 had passed and everyone that I knew was pissed.  I was pretty sad that my vote was neutral and not on the loosing side.
Gay marriage is always going to be an issue, and i think i’ve figured out a good way of dealing with it. Let’s illegalize marriage all together. People feel very strongly about marriage, but there’s no reason the state should. Prohibiting marriage would solve everyones problem by democratizing the couples, save the state millions of dollars, and clean out those pesky green card citizens( I’m looking at you Gerard Depardieu).  Marriage isn’t a political issue, its a religious act. let the church marry anyone they want, but keep my bachelor dollars our of dirty family pockets. Tax breaks should come when children enter the family, because marriage alone rarely warrants any extra money.
I read a paper on Gay Politics, and it talked about how gay marriage is a Christian issue, because the act of marriage validates gay sex in the eyes of God. God is a strange figure in politics, because he never votes, and everyone is always talking about how he feels on the issues. I just don’t see why 2 women cant get married and i can still order the Red Lobster Endless Shrimp Basket. God talked about shellfish forever(rrrrrrr), and didn’t mention a single lesbian. I always wondered why he made so many shellfish if he felt so strongly against them, and why would he made them so delicious? I feel the same way about gay people. Why would God make so many of them if he didn’t want them, and why did he make them so delicious?

The Microphones were my first venture into the tactile realms of music. I’ve always been a tech junky, I had a mp3 player before I had any mp3s. But there was something about the Glow Pt. 2 that compelled me go  to the Laney College flea market and buy a record player, along with 40 or so albums on beat up vinyl. Vinyl probably bought, and sold by college school students in a two year cycle, after realizing the Velvet Underground isn’t good enough to warrant lugging around a 90 lb box of records. But I kept my Microphones records, that might be a testament to my love of the Microphones, or my hatred of the Velvet Underground.
Mount Eerie who evolved from the Microphones have just released a new album, a collaboration with Canadian singer, Julie Doiron, and is  the prettiest albums i’ve heard this year. Voices in Headphones was so well crafted It made me want to bury my ipod, dust off my SLR, and take over-exposed pictures of dusty puddles.  Listen to it staring at your ceiling, picturing clouds casting shadows on rickety wooden houses, and pondering your existence. If you hate it, its only like 20 minutes, so stop complaining.

In Oakland I had a lot of people cutting my hair. I can’t remember paying more than a pack of cigarettes to trade for services rendered. I got some pretty good haircuts from my friend Kara Joslyn, she’d spend 4 hours on it every cut, which was nice for a free haircut, but tedious when you’re trying not to fall asleep while she’s trimming around your ears. After that, my friend Monica Canilao (pictured above) cut my hair for website services. I think she was the best because she’d bake me tator tots for after the haircut. She had this pair of old fabric scissors that she’d drag across my head. The pain was intoxicating. The sound of hair ripping gave me chills, and I can’t get a razor cut anymore without asking if they might have a duller blade somewhere.

When I moved to New York, I was shocked that no one was offering me haircuts for cigarettes. With New York cigarette prices, I can’t say it’d be much of a deal. So I went to this place that a friend was working at, his name was Brian, and I’m not going to say where, but he raped my head with his sleazy scissors, and charged me 190 dollars for a bowl cut and a salon phobia. I eventually found some guy named Wesley at Kropps and Bobbers, and he did an amazing job, but at 90 dollars, it was no steal.

Now back in Los Angeles, I dreaded finding a place to get my hair chopped. I’ve been going to Rudy’s on Sunset, for a 24 dollar haircut that looks like it cost me 40, or the Vidal Sassoon school, which i’m still a little scared of. And though I’m happy with the reasonable priced chops here, I’m still sad that the barter barber scene doesn’t extend much outside of Oakland. I got a haircut in Portland once, and they gave me a free pabst while I got my hair snipped. Its those little gestures that make an experience. So if anyone in Los Angeles wants take a crack at my head, I’m ready and willing. And if you want some money, make sure you have some tator tots and a PBR waiting for me.

I love Spam. Its not an ironic, fetishistic infatuation. Its a true appreciation for the meat; its resourceful flavor, and its indestructible enclosure. Its not because I’m asian, and I loves things that come with right angles, encased in steel. Its not the novelty of canned luncheon meats or the cult status that it somehow achieved. And I’m just tired of defending Spam to people that will never let themselves experience the wonder meat.

What bothers me is that so many people are fine with hot dogs, probably the most processed meat product ever created. Hot dogs are made with the real scraps, blended in a vat the size of a grain silo, encased in synthetic wrapping, then painted orange. Spam has always gotten the short end of the culinary stick. What people don’t realize that Spam is a simple blend of ham, pork shoulder and pepper. There’s no ears or anus, that goes to the hot dog plant. Spam does not stand for “snouts, penis, and misc…”, its a simply abbreviation for “spiced ham”.

I know I’m being defensive unprovoked, but I just wanted to tell you about my friend, that happens to have a bad reputation. If you’d like to read more in defense of SPAM, read this hillarious essay, and look for Paul Theroux’s theory of the pacific islanders fascination with said meat. And if you get curious, try some of these recipes. If you don’t trust me, trust the experts.

When I was seventeen, I realized that if I ever got thrown into a gun fight, I’d die within the first 15 seconds. I wouldn’t be the hot shot cop, I wouldn’t even be his partner that goes out in a blaze of glory. I would be the busboy that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. If I ever get into a gun fight, I hope its on boat dock. Diving into the water is usually your best bet as a bystander. As long as I can hold my breathe long enough, I should be fine. Maybe a helpful dolphin will help me back to shore. But knowing my luck, I’ll probably catch a cold or die of hypothermia; probably both.

Sometime in the last few years, I’ve started obsessing about pig hunting. I’ve fallen in love with the idea of taking down a wild pig with my bare hands, gutting it with a knife and cooking it over an open fire. I’ve never been into hunting and/or gathering, but I’ve come to respect the pork so much, that I feel I must fully experience the process from start to finish. To actively engage the process, to better appreciate what I already love so much.

There is a prejudice against pork that I’ve never understood. Certain cultures don’t eat pork because of outdated dogma, set into place because of sanitary conditions of the time. They say that modern pig raising processes have created a very clean and lean meat, that no long resembles pork of previous centuries. Chickens are ceseptable to all the same diseases, yet somehow escaped such culinary persecution. The Chinese have always considered the pig the most noble of all beasts. They are loyal, smart, and above all, delicious. I dare anybody to befriend a pig, and not come out of it with some respect for the species. There is a misunderstanding with pigs, that since they don’t sweat they’re meat is tainted; that its filthy. But no one seems to realize that pigs, a very emotional animal, cry themselves to sleep most nights, releasing any excess salt that would spoil they’re delicious flesh.

I know its not going to change. It just makes me so angry when people relegate pork as a secondary meat. We’re the secondary meat, and we should bow down to such savory gods. So I’m getting to get ready, I’ve polished my brass knuckles, and tightened my belt. And if you want, you’re more than welcome to join me.

Its not often that I love something more than myself, but there are a few exceptions. Speed Racer is one major exception. When I was a little kid, they used to play it after Beavis and Butthead, and I instantly fell in love. But staying in love has been an incredibly hard task, because Speed Racer, though the best show ever, is the worst franchise of all time.

To be a Speed Racer fan, you have to have a good understanding of kitsch. This is why recreating the magic is so hard. Kitsch is something that you can’t try to create, it has to happen naturally. Every itteration of the show, besides the original, has been so heavy handed or completely aweful.

Around the time I got into Speed Racer, The New Adventures of Speed Racer debuted. It was the first American attempt to capture the magic. It was so stupid, it only lasted thirteen stupid episodes. A race car driver, and dimensional time traveler, Speed Racer and his Mach 5 battled against mutant aliens, for the safety of earth. Even as a 9 year old kid, I knew this was the worst cartoon I’d ever seen. Its angry jingle metal theme song, embarrassed me, yet didn’t stop me from watching the cartoon every sunday morning.

Along time passed, and I heard rumors of a reprisal. A Japaneses version of the show, and a new hope for Speed Racer bliss. This animation studio, took the Digimon approach,using computer drawn characters with really thin lines. The show had very little to do with racing, most storylines focusing on Speed’s high school life. The racing that did take place looked like it was lifted out of Tron. This series never made it to the states, and was incredibly hard to find when it came out. But that didn’t stop me, unfortunately.

Now in 2008, theres a new Speed Racer push. A new movie and a new cartoon series. And if you didn’t already know, they’re both art directed vomit. I’ve come to terms with the situation, and I’ve learned a few things. Speed Racer is deceptively simple. People that love speed racer, really love speed racer. But if you truely love Speed Racer, leave it alone. Please.

For some odd reason, AMC has been playing alot more Death Wish these days. 5 years after Charles Bronson’s death, theres really no reason for this sudden interest in the series. Especially since 3 out of the 5 are too terrible to watch.
But Charles Bronson still stands as my favorite face in cinema. When I heard that Sylvester Stallone wanted to reprise the role as the gun wielding vigilante, it made me sad. Charles Bronson was the ugly uncle we all had. Vaguely Asian/ Mexican looking; He taught us, you fuck with me= you die. Uncle Bronson wasn’t Rambo, he was some schmuck with a big gun. Kinda short, and super creepy, if Uncle Bronson took you out to the park, he would not play with you, just stare at you from 600 feet away. But if you got into a sticky situation, you could always count on Uncle Bronson’s aim.
So when you see the trailer to the upcoming Death Wish remake, don’t forget where it all started: at the cold end of a great man’s gun.

I think we’re always at ends with our emotions. I’m constantly fighting between what I feel, and what I know is right. I hold these feelings back so I don’t appear crazy or temperamental. The eternal fight between the mind and the heart has ripped apart the brains of geniuses, and the souls of saints. Its no wonder, I’m always thinking about Robocop city.

Located somewhere in the middle of Iowa, lies Robocop city. Robocop City’s main appeal is its complete lack of crime, due to its populous made completely of Robocops. Unlike most Police Departments, there is no racism, in Robocop City you are judged on your aim, effectiveness, and willingness to comply. Since there is no crime in Robocop City, the police force is severely underfunded. Many Robocops have had to pick up jobs on the side. A popular second job is working in the baby food factory, or writer for the local newspaper, The Roboexaminer.

My uncle says that Robocop City Women are the most sexy women in the world. They’re smart, strong, and very knowledgable with power tools. But he also says they smell like an arm after you take a cast off it. He couldn’t get over it, but i have a severely deviated septum, and haven’t been able to smell for decades.